Hurt
by blacksugarbomb
Summary: And I've hurt myself by hurting you.


**Author Note: **Lately, this song's just been in my mind for too long and I couldn't help but imagine all this racing through as I listen to it (on repeat, mind you); it's rearranged and chopped up quite a bit here... I'm awfully sorry for the sloppy POVs I have in here; real messy… :P I apologize if Hong Kong and England are really OOC here; I really have no idea how to make them in character (especially HK).

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or anything related to it.

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The clouds overhead rumbled, glowering down from above with distaste. The droplets falling from the sky attacked him from all angles, the water seemingly hitting him with the force of pebbles. Somewhere in the distance, there was great flash of light then the expected roar of thunder following in its wake. The mud soiled his clothes, the earth sucking him deeper and deeper into the ground with every passing moment like quicksand. It was rare to have rainfall in winter, much less a thunderstorm rampaging about in the coldest times of December winter. The enemy's army had seized his water reservoirs and waited until he would surrender, draining him of his water sources. He should be enjoying this rain right now, lapping at what little water there was for his thirst was becoming unbearable in the last few days. But none of these really mattered to him. He had already been beaten by his enemy until he lost his senses. His eyesight was a blur and getting worse, the only thing he smelt in the air was the strong ashen waft of gunpowder and the underlying stench of rotting wet earth mixed with hints of death, his skin devoid of warmth under the pelting rain that continued to draw out his remaining body heat and he tasted nothing other than the iron laced flavour of blood in his mouth. His only comrade, Canada, had been knocked unconscious within moments that the battle had begun. It was no real surprise what with Canada's shallow battle experiences; but he was thankful for his contribution, he had been unfit for battle and yet stood his ground to fight for him.

Wait. He did have another ally. England. With a sharp intake of air, he banished England from his mind. The nation was held up at the coast by enemy forces. There was no hope of him arriving in time.

Moments before they split up for the final battle, the Western nation explained that if he didn't defend the coastline and they would surely be defeated within minutes. Before leaving, England even patted him on the shoulder and reassured him that he would protect him from falling into enemy hands and that all he needed to do was to be patient. Ha! Patient? He had been waiting for eighteen days – suffering and resisting for eighteen straight days nonstop. Did it occur to England that this battle would drag on for eighteen days in the dry chilling harshness of winter when water was scarce? Did he foresee this predicament when he spoke those confident words?

At this point in time, now that things had finally reached the worst case scenario, he couldn't help but let his mind drift even though he knew Japan stood just a small distance away from him, sword dripping with rain mingled blood, the blade gleaming as lightning crawled across the grey skies.

_You told me how proud you were but I walked away;  
If only I knew what I know today._

He still remembered the times when he was still a small colony, during the early years he spent as a new colony under British rule. At home, he spoke Mandarin to his older brother although China understood his mother tongue just as well. In England's house, the blonde man understood nothing of his language and only spoke English.

Talk about being linguistically challenged. He never comprehended how England managed to flourish with only English tucked under his belt.

In any case, to overcome this barrier, England tutored him in his language and encouraged him to undertake self-study whilst he was away on the days when there were matters that required his attention. And study he did. By the end of every day, he would speak to the older man in English. Unlike him, the man easily displayed his emotions and he constantly praised him for fast improvements. One time he even said he was very proud of the small colony for such speedy improvements. Not that he cared about compliments. He placed no importance on the British man's words. Obedience was the key to avoiding harsh treatment. That was the only thing motivating him to study so hard.

…Or so he thought. The idea that England had genuinely meant what he said back then was constantly rejected until he finally came to accept and trust the older man years later.

_Seems like yesterday when I saw your face.  
I would hold you in my arms,  
I would take the pain away._

Then there was that time when he caught the blonde in the library, working away furiously at the desk with furrowed eyebrows in the dead of the night. He watched closely by the door as England scribbled away hurriedly then crumpling the paper into a tight ball of frustration and cast it aside. Then he noticed that the room was littered with similar paper balls. His attention flew back to his guardian whom he had started to take a liking towards when the man let out a stressed groan and slumped in his chair with a sigh.

Looking back at this memory, he could almost hear his voice again, mumbling something about China being difficult and demanding the impossible. It distressed him a little to see his guardian acting like this so he left his hiding spot and stood beside England, staring up at the man. In turn, he asked why he was out of bed at this hour. But he didn't say a word and only stretched his arms out towards him, beckoning England to pick him up. Letting out another sigh, the man lifted him up and sat him on his lap. Then he hugged the blonde, putting his face flat against the man's chest whilst his small arms failed to wrap all the way around his body. He told England that China was just being childish like he sometimes was and that he tried his best so it was alright because even he found coping with China's childishness impossible sometimes.

To this day, he wouldn't forget the heart-warming thumps of each beat of the man's heart that lulled him to sleep and the protective arms that held him.

_Thank you for all you've done,  
Forgive all your mistakes._

Ah yes. Of all things to reminiscent about, he had forgotten about this single incident that threw England on his black list for a decade or two. How could he have forgotten about how he and England first met? Oh, it was everything but pleasant.

It was yet another ordinary day for him, going out to play by the docks and chase birds along the beach. It was there that he first set his eyes upon England as he conversed freely with China. There was an air of authority about him that rivalled his older brother. A miniature crowd had accumulated some distance away, behind the guarded barrier of foreign soldiers that kept civilians away from the important looking man and China.

Then he caught the word 'opium'.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he wriggled through the crowds and tried to get near them but one of England's subordinates shouted something in English at him then threw him aside like trash. Whispers and murmurs spread across the small group of people like wildfire, criticizing the soldiers for treating a child badly.

He didn't cry though. He wouldn't cry. He kept those tears held at bay, kept them in his eyes even though it hurt. He sniffed but no tears fell.

Witnessing this, China cut short his conversation with England and lifted him into his arms, patting him on the back and comforting the child. He buried his face in his brother's neck but still, not a tear fell. He heard the lethal edge in his brother's voice as he addressed the blonde man.

He had never really forgiven England for that. But perhaps from today onwards, he will.

_There's nothing I wouldn't do  
To hear your voice again,  
Sometimes I want to call you but I know you won't be there._

The squelch of mud under shoes brought him back to present time again. With every splash of a puddle, he knew impending doom neared. But something in the back of his head fought against the rest of his mind, provoking him with words.

Keep fighting, it said, hold on for a little longer. Isn't there a home you want to go back to?

Instead of China, who he thought of first was England. How odd. He was almost sure he favoured his older brother over that blonde man who never understood how to bring up a child properly even after so many attempts. Nevertheless, now that he has a goal he wanted to reach, his will to fight returned to him, giving him strength to stand again. Picking himself up from the ground, he stood like a marionette doll in the rain, his stance weak and the glint in his eyes dying just a little more.

"Until England comes…" He repeated his goal back to himself in a raspy voice followed by a fit of coughs that brought the blood out of his mouth. He didn't care if he looked like a living wreck, nor did he care whether he looked like the laughing stock of the world.

Japan chuckled darkly, "It's useless, Hong Kong."

_I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do.  
Some days I feel broke inside but I won't admit;  
Sometimes I just want to hide 'cause it's you I miss.  
You know it's so hard to say goodbye when it comes to this.  
And I've hurt myself by hurting you._

Gunfire drowned out the drumming of rain on helmets of his army. His men were being injured or killed, one by one. His blonde locks were drenched, his green eyes pained. How much longer would this last? How many more agonizing hours would it take for him to completely breakdown and be defeated? Was it really worth it to plunge himself into a trap even though he knew the chances for survival were slim? How much longer does he have to act strong and confident? How much more would this slaughter make him suffer inside?

The Japanese already have a secured victory; all that was left was whether he would let this killing continue or surrender and damage his pride. Which was more important?

In his frustration of indecision, England left his post and bolted, running further and further away from the front lines, trusting his men to continue their futile efforts of resistance against the ruthless Japanese. He was going to where Hong Kong was. He trusted his senses to lead him through the terrain he'd come to know so well.

This entire time, he had been selfish. He witnessed and experienced the ugliness of war one too many times in his lifetime and understood clearly that this was a lost cause from the very beginning. It was a war that should've never been fought. He knew Hong Kong would fall. And still he fought to protect his own pride – he fought not for the safety of Hong Kong but for his own worthless pride. And now, he will lose both Hong Kong and his pride. Was it truly worth it? All these sacrifices just to see how they would suffer and pay the price?

Emerging into a clearing, the sight that welcomed him tugged at his heart, distraught horror threatening to take control of his mind. No amount of gratitude could he express for Canada who aided him in this pointless war and seeing the loyal country lie there unconscious saddened him greatly. But above all, seeing the state that Hong Kong was in broke his heart. The small colony that he had raised in these short years had grown up strong and prospered but seeing those injuries that littered his thin frame nearly brought tears to his eyes. Hong Kong was slashed, bruised and looking more fragile than ever. It was as if just a single touch would shatter the youngster into pieces. The mischievous and childish sparkle in his eyes were long since replaced with a stone hard gaze of absoluteness and his breathing was erratic; short, sharp, shallow. His face betrayed nothing of the pain that he felt during these long eighteen days. Despite all this, he was still standing, ready to take on another assault.

_Would you tell me I was wrong?  
Would you help me understand?  
Are you looking down upon me?  
Are you proud of who I am?  
There's nothing I wouldn't do  
To have just one more chance,  
To look into your eyes and see you looking back._

After Hong Kong had forced himself to stand back up every time after being beaten down, after he became numb to all his senses and after he cast away the value of his own life, the one person he was waiting for finally arrives.

Perhaps, the tide was finally turning and victory was just on the horizon. But wait. England's face was laced with sorrow, the rain streaming down his face and his uniform dirtied, torn in parts as an arm and leg were partially bandaged, the blood seeping through and leaving a red splotch on the bandage. Seeing the European nation frown and looking so doubtful and hesitant triggered questions to explode within his mind. Did he think he was a pathetic colony that didn't deserve to bear the mark of the Union Jack or the name of a British colony? Would he say that he was proud of him like when he worked hard to learn English?

His iron wrought will wavering, Hong Kong fell to his knees, overcome with utter exhaustion. He wanted to know how the greater nation viewed him now that he had experienced his first war, first invasion and first taste of pain as his people suffered. Even a brief glance from those emerald eyes would encourage him to fight on till the end. He had grown attached to the British man over the years he had spent with him. Almost like a brother; almost like China.

_Oh, it's dangerous;  
It's so out of line to try to turn back time.  
And I've hurt myself._

But what Hong Kong didn't know was how England's insides were twisting and turning, churning in pain. The blonde was well aware that the Asian colony had his eyes set on him, his gaze searching for something he couldn't give. Nor did he have the courage to look the colony in the eye after having committed such an atrocious act.

Truly, he was ashamed. Ashamed of what he had done and what he was about to do. If only he could turn back the ticking hands of the clock, back to before all this happened…

Whatever England had said to Japan, Hong Kong couldn't hear. The overbearing noise of the rain was too much and drowned out what the two stronger nations were negotiating about. But whatever it was, they had reached an agreement. Japan looked at him once and nodded. They shook hands. The deal was sealed. Japan sheathed his sword.

It was all over and somehow, Hong Kong knew England had surrendered him.

Perhaps he had blacked out for a little while, because he couldn't recall since when England was by his side, holding him close like a protective parent holding their child. He felt sleepy. Far too tired. His eyelids weighed a ton and threatened to close over his eyes. But he needed to stay awake; he had a heap of things to talk to the older nation about. It was not time to sleep yet.

He opened his mouth to speak but coughs assaulted his lungs. It hurt to even breathe. All England did was stroke his hair, whispering hushed comforts. The words were too soft, almost like a lullaby. When the coughs subsided and Hong Kong looked at England's face, he never realized just how much the rain made it seem like the nation was crying.

_I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do.  
And I've hurt myself  
By hurting you._

Hong Kong balled his freezing cold hand into a fist. He wanted to punch the man and shout at him but he couldn't sum up the energy to do that. England had betrayed him – betrayed his trust, his hopes, his people. All the reassurance that this war would be over swiftly and victory was sure to be theirs was an absolute lie. But at the same time, he knew he would never be able to bring himself to hate the man.

England apologized, over and over again.

"It would've been better if I never took you away from China."

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**Historical Notes:**

- Where England was saying how China was being difficult and demanding the impossible, it refers to when the Qing Dynasty authorities demanded that all British traders sign a bond that promises no more opium trading.

- The section about England bringing opium to China's house does refer to the First Opium War but it is actually a specific reference to the Kowloon incident that happened in July 1839.

- The Canadian troops that took part in the Hong Kong War had little battle experience and were actually declared unfit for action but fought nonetheless.

- English forces were certain that Hong Kong was going to fall to Japan but in the end after much discussion, came to the conclusion that the port was to be defended.

- The Hong Kong War was the first time in history where the British Crown Colony has surrendered to an invading force.


End file.
